We rode for a long time, Atrius taking up the front of the army. Erekkus and I weren’t far behind him, though off to the side, isolated from most of the other soldiers who trailed behind. This, I was sure, had to have been Atrius’s command—forever concerned about my safety among the other soldiers. That, too, was probably why Erekkus was constantly at my side. He was chatty, and often about nothing in particular, which got very old very fast—worse, because being in such a big crowd for so long tended to be exhausting for Arachessen. I was starting to feel the strain of it after a few days on the road. The headache at the back of my head and behind my eyes was now a constant, sharp pain.
Unpleasant. But I’d have to deal with it. I could be spending months in this position. Maybe years. It depended on what the Sightmother expected of me.
The Arachessen were never far from my mind. We operated independently on our missions, but given how important this one was, I’d be expected to find a way to make contact with the Sightmother soon and update her.
But I wasn’t given many chances to sneak off on my own. I thought that the first sunrise on the road would be my opportunity, but we didn’t even set up a proper camp that day, just enough to keep the vampires packed together and sheltered from the sunlight. With Erekkus two feet away from me, I wasn’t willing to risk sneaking out, especially not since I quickly learned the man basically didn’t sleep.
Finally, after a week of travel, we came to a wide, flat grassy patch of land. It was easy to defend, and spacious, and Atrius seemed conscious of the fact that his soldiers were growing weary after a week of nonstop travel and little rest. He had us erect real tents again, a camp that wasn’t as expansive as the one I’d been initially dragged into, but close.
That meant privacy. Room to move around without attracting attention.
My tent was placed on the outer edge of the encampment again, far from all the others except for Erekkus, who was placed right beside mine. But once the work of setting up camp was done, Erekkus seemed more than eager to go socialize with people much more pleasant than me. It was a little surprising, actually, how quickly he ran off into the rest of the camp.
I stood outside my tent for awhile, arms crossed, observing the others in the distance. A great bonfire had been lit in the center of the camp, and many of the warriors clustered around it, drinking and talking. Their presences were dim with weariness, yes, but also unusually lively. A number of deer had been hunted and dragged into camp that night, still alive and twitching while the vampires crawled over their corpses and fed on them directly, or emptied their blood into goblets that they raised in drunken toasts. I shivered as the wind shifted and I caught a glimpse of those beasts’ auras—different than the acute fear I would have expected. It was there, yes, but it was dull and fuzzy, coated instead with a thick layer of euphoric docility.
Vampire venom. That was a mercy, perhaps.
This wasn’t a normal night. It felt like… a celebration of some kind. Maybe some kind of Obitraen festival? Some religious night? I almost wished Erekkus was around to ask him about it. Almost.
Instead, I planned to take full advantage of my newfound freedom.
I crept around the outskirts of the camp, noting the layout of the tents and guard posts. I wouldn’t try to sneak off until daybreak, but it couldn’t hurt to at least see what I was working with now.
I kept expanding my circles, until the bonfire was a distant glow and I was beyond the final bounds of the camp. Too far—I was pushing my luck while the others were awake.
I froze, scanning the horizon.
I felt something out there, not far from me now. A presence that almost seemed familiar, but twisted from what I typically knew, that stone stillness warped into molten steel—sharper and more dangerous.
My curiosity—a dangerous quality—got the better of me.
I lingered in the shadows and clung to the rocks, and edged closer.
Atrius.
Atrius, on his hands and knees, clutching the head of a stag with bare arms, his teeth sunk deep into its throat. His shirt and jacket were discarded in a pile nearby, his bare skin covered in blood.
The beast was enormous—one of the biggest stags I’d ever seen around this area. Atrius’s arms barely encircled its head, though he held it tight, muscles straining. Blood soaked the creature’s neck, matting its white fur and dripping into the gritty sand.
I stilled, unable to move.
I’d witnessed predators work countless times before. But even what I had seen the rest of Atrius’s men doing near the bonfire seemed… different than this. This was primal and foreign and yet, at the same time, deeply, innately natural. I was repulsed by it and fascinated by it and…